“To catch them, of course. Hurry up.”
“Not much; you might turn another somersault, and then both our horses would be gone to the four winds.” With these words I put my horse after the mule and Dick’s horse. Already they were in trouble, one pulling one way, the other another, and held together by the lasso, so I could easily come up with them. It never entered my head to use my lasso, but I grabbed the one holding them, wound it around my hand, and felt sure the day was won. I drew the noose tighter and tighter, thus easily controlling the mule, and brought her back, together with the horse, in apparent subjection to where Sam stood.
Then I suddenly pulled the noose taut, when the mule lost her breath and fell to the ground.
“Hold on fast till I have the rascal, and then let go,” shouted Sam, springing to the side of the prostrate beast. “Now!” he cried.
I let go the lasso, and the mule instantly jumped up, but not before Sam was on her back. She stood motionless a moment in surprise, then rushed from side to side, then stood first on her hind legs, then on her fore legs, and finally jumped into the air with all four bunched together, and her back arched like a cat’s. But still little Sam sat fast.
“Don’t get near; she’s going to try her last hope and run away, but I’ll bring her back tamed,” shouted Sam.
He proved to be mistaken, however; she only ran a little way, and then deliberately lay down and rolled. This was too much for Sam’s ribs; he had to get out of the saddle. I jumped from my horse, seized the lasso, and wound it around some tough roots near at hand. The mule, finding she had no rider, got up and started to run off; but the roots were strong, the noose drew tight, and again the animal fell. Sam had retired to one side, feeling his legs and ribs, and making a face as if he had eaten sauerkraut and marmalade.
“Let the beast go,” he said. “I believe nobody can conquer her.”
“Well, I guess not,” said I. “No animal whose father was no gentleman, but a donkey, is going to shame me. She’s got to mind me. Look out.”
I unwound the lasso from the bushes, and stood astride the mule, which at once got up, feeling herself freed. Now it was a question of strength of legs, and in this I far surpassed Sam. If a rider presses his beast’s ribs with strong knees it causes intense pain. As the mule began to try to throw me as she had Sam, I caught up the lasso, half hanging on the ground, and fastened it tight behind the noose. This I drew whenever she began any of her tricks, and by this means and pressure of the knees I contrived to keep her on all fours.